


sick, covey? (1/2)

by 1inchash



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 08:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1inchash/pseuds/1inchash
Summary: when lara jean has a stomachache and peter comes over to take her to a party.— an au where homecoming hasn’t happened yet + lj and pk are still in that "fake" relationship.





	sick, covey? (1/2)

(version one: bellyache)

* * *

honestly, i think my stomach is killing me. i think some higher being out there is punishing me for being in this insane fake relationship with peter, because today at lunch, peter and i shared a really loud quiz-off on the movies we've watched together recently in the cafeteria and everyone literally had to hush us to get us to stop (i took a peek over at gen, and she looked like she could convince satan to follow her and destroy me).

when i got to my last class period, my stomach started cramping up and i broke out into a cold sweat. i had to tough out twenty math examples before i could escape onto the bus and go home.

daddy didn’t come home early today, kitty’s not home yet, and peter stayed back at school to support gabe in asking one of the cheerleaders to homecoming. peter mentioned it to me and told me that i should come and support him, too, but i completely forgot because my stomach felt like it was going to collapse into itself. he'd understand, right? i'll just have to text him later.

i wanted to take a hot bath to hopefully melt away the pain, but i could barely drag myself up the stairs, never mind running water for a bath. i just had to deal with the pain.

just as i'm about to close my eyes and take a nap to sleep away my pain, i hear my doorbell ring. i groaned. why is no one ever home when i'm in pain? if margot were still here, she would've opened the door for me. she would've prepared soup and a movie marathon and we would've hung out all night in the living room until i felt better. 

man, i missed margot so much.

i dragged myself to the door and opened it. peter was standing outside in his lacrosse hoodie, holding a single pale pink carnation. he was smiling when i opened the door, but then he took one look at me and frowned.

"you look terrible. what are you? sick, covey?"

i'm clutching onto my stomach as my roll my eyes at him, "i have the worst stomachache right now peter. did you come here for something?"

"can i come in?" peter asked, and before i could answer him, he wraps his arm around me and ushers me into my house, closing the door behind him.

as he sits the both of us down on my couch, i question him, "you didn't even let me answer?"

"you didn't tell me you weren't going to watch gabe ask cindy out for homecoming!" peter rebutted quickly, "i was standing there, looking around for you. i was worried you didn't know we would be on the field. gabe was so happy when she said yes, and after he told us, he asked me where you were. i had to tell him that i didn't know! it was so embarrassing, lara jean."

i didn't know what to say. i honestly didn't think it was such a big deal that i missed out on gabe asking cindy to homecoming. i mean, peter didn't ask me to homecoming, and we're fake dating! 

peter frowned, "you could've at least told me you were going home because your stomach hurt. i could've— no, i would’ve driven you back instead."

"you wanted to be there for gabe, how was i supposed to know you would take me home!" i replied, somewhat surprised that peter would be willing to leave his friend for me, "besides, i knew you wanted to be there for gabe. i'm just a fake girlfriend, peter. he's your real best friend."

"my real best friend thinks you're my real girlfriend, covey," peter states, giving me an upset look, "he would've understood. we all knew cindy would say yes. he just wanted it to be on snapchat."

i'm left blinking at peter. i don't even know why we're arguing about something so pointless. he got to support his friend, i got to go home and spend 20 minutes alone to nurse my poor stomach with my depressing thoughts. this literally didn't matter at all, because we're not trying to deceive his friends. he's trying to deceive geneviene. i bet she wasn't even there.

"what does it matter now, peter? it's over."

"still," peter emphasizes. he's looking at me, and i can't read his expression. which is weird, because peter is usually a very easy person to read. his eyes are usually carefree and bright; they look like they're ready to joke with you at any minute. there's a type of child-like, innocent gleam to them. now, they're indescribable. a bit cloudy, even.

peter gets off the couch and he goes into the kitchen. i try to get up and follow him, but my stomach is telling me no. it feels like i just ate a hundred thai chili peppers through my belly button. if you've never eaten a thai chili pepper, i guarantee that they're one of the spiciest peppers i've ever eaten. even ice-cold milk isn't enough to calm down the spice.

i lean back onto the couch when peter comes back and plops a hot water bottle onto my stomach. i look up to him in shock, "where did you find this?"

"in the kitchen drawer," he shrugs, "my mom normally keeps hers in the same place, so i figured i would try my luck. impressed, covey?"

if i'm being honest, i am a bit impressed. though, i'm not sure if it's peter who is impressive, or if it's margot's organization skills that did all of the work.

"i'm surprisingly impressed, peter," i admit to him, and he finally smiles.

honestly, the hot water bottle is really helping. it's calming my stomach a little bit. it still hurts, don't get me wrong, but it feels like it's on a quicker recovery track. i look away from peter and stare at the red rubber bottle. how can something so small help so much?

"did you read the note i left for you today?" peter asks all of a sudden. i look up at him, confused, "no? i stopped reading all of them since monday because i figured they're fake anyways. why?"

there's a brief disappointed look on his face, "oh... well, today's note told you that i was going to take you to derrell's birthday celebration today. derrell's parents are hosting some fancy dinner party for him at his house, and he wanted you to come, too."

"i don't think i'm in a very good position to go to derrell's dinner party tonight," i insisted. 

it's true, though. i'd be lucky enough if i could gather the strength to do my homework. maybe i should take some ibuprofen pills when peter leaves. i notice peter's conflicted expression, so i suggest, "besides, i don’t think i’m fancy enough for an exclusive dinner party anyways. why don't you take gen with you? i mean, she's not your girlfriend anymore but she's still a close friend and i know how much she means to you, still. you'll have a great time without me. and i don't think it's weird that you're taking your ex because you're good friends."

"derrell's parents don't really like gen," peter sighs, looking down at his hands, "besides, he wanted you to come."

i'm in shock. derrell wanted me to come? specifically me? not me as in peter kavinsky's girlfriend, but me? as in lara jean?

"i—“ i try to respond but nothing is coming out. i’m somewhat speechless.

“don’t worry about it, lara jean,” peter throws his arm around me and he leans me onto his side, “take a nap and we’ll see if you feel better.”

“peter, you should still go. don’t miss out on derrell’s party!” i tell him, even though i’m snuggled comfortably next to him.

he’s so warm, it distracts me from my stomachache. i don’t know if i’m feeling stomach pain or butterflies, and i also don’t know which is worse. i don’t want him to leave, but i can’t keep depending on him when i know all of this is fake. it’s fake. i have to keep telling myself that. 

if i don’t remind myself, i’ll keep wanting to believe that it’s real.

“i’ll leave when you fall asleep, don’t worry,” peter reassures me, and i look up at him. he’s staring at me, “go to sleep, covey.”

i close my eyes and my shift my head a little to lean comfortably right on his chest. both of my hands clutch the hot water bottle. everything feels so warm, so right. i think i fall asleep within two minutes...

 

* * *

 

“hey, yeah covey is having a really bad stomachache and we couldn’t make it... yeah, she’s alright. if she were awake right now, i’d let you talk to her... sorry i didn't call earlier...”

i open my eyes. the hot water bottle has become lukewarm and i’m still leaning against peter. the tv is on, and kitty is on the floor doing some sort of craft. it’s dark outside. how long have i been asleep?

i yawn a bit and i shift to look up at peter. he’s on the phone with someone. i think he noticed me moving, because he looks down in shock and he talks into the phone, “oh, lara jean’s awake now! here.”

he hands me the phone and i give him a questionable look. who is it? he nudges the phone at me. i look down at the caller id and it’s derrell.

“hello?” i ask, taking the phone and putting it against my ear.

“lara jean? are you okay?” i could hear a hint of worry in his voice, and a lot of clinking and chatter in the background. his party must’ve started already.

“um... yeah. my stomach just started hurting a lot in math today, so i had to sprint home. it’s okay, though. did your party start yet? i’m sorry i held peter back.”

“oh, it’s not a big deal LJ, as long as you’re fine! it’s technically my parent’s thing anyways. just make it up to me by coming to my actual birthday hangout on my actual birthday thursday! you both HAVE to come! we’re going to the corner diner and we’re going to buyout the jukebox for the entire hour. it’ll be super DOPE!”

i smile, “yeah, i will be there. for sure. nothing will stop me!”

derrell laughs, “okay. tell peter i said bye.”

“alright, enjoy your party!”

i hang up the phone and i hand it back to peter, who is looking at me. i can’t describe this look, either. his eyes aren’t cloudy, nor do they have a child-like gleam to them.

“you slept forever,” he comments, before he yawns, “i would’ve fallen asleep, too, if kitty didn’t come home and keep me company.”

i look over at kitty, who is now looking at the both of us with a smile, “yep! i showed him golden girls and we’ve been marathoning it ever since! and then peter’s mom came over to bring us this creamy chicken noodle soup and it was sooo good!”

i looked up at peter, shocked. when did she come over? why hadn’t i noticed? peter gives me a meek smile, “yeah, i told my mom that your stomach hurt and she offered to make it and bring it over. you slept for so long, kitty and i just ate first without you. are you hungry now? i’ll make you a bowl.”

now that i’m thinking about it, i was kind of hungry. instead of stomach pain, i think i’m just feeling hungry.

without a reply, peter pulls his arm away from me and he gets up and heads to the kitchen. i hadn’t even noticed that his arm was around me this entire time. it felt so natural.

“lara jean, you know it’s 8:30 already?” kitty asks me while drawing little stars onto her sheet of paper, “me and peter watched six episodes together! you slept for so long!”

i sit up, shocked. the hot water bottle rolls down onto the ground. it’s been five hours?! how was that even possible? i give a final yawn and stretch before rubbing my eyes. i head to the kitchen to see peter ladling soup into a bowl.

the kitchen is still spotless, and it seems like kitty's and peter's bowls and spoons have been already washed, too.

peter turns around to look at me, "hey, is this enough? or is it too much?"

i walk up to him and peer over his arm, "it looks fine. smells really good, too."

he smiles at me in response, and i think my heart is beating faster and faster. it was so strange to think that just a couple hours before, i was in my bed thinking about how margot would make me soup and hang out with me until i felt better. and now peter is fixing me a bowl of his mom's creamy chicken noodle soup and skipped derrell's birthday dinner for me.

sometimes, i wished peter was like a dream. if i had only dreamt him up, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad when we have to end things.


End file.
